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She stares down at her hands, these aren't her hands...this skin isn't her skin, she never looked like this, never when she was alive. She doesn't know who she is, what she is anymore.

"Who am I?" she thinks to herself, shaking her head, her hair, it is not this hair...her hair was never like this. She's lost herself between layers of illusions, each scar and nick sending up another barricade...each rejection another padlock.

"What do I look like?" she asks herself, not really remembering anymore, she's afraid to look, afraid what time and hell might have done to her, what this city might have done to her.

Does Appearance make me who I am? Why shouldn't it? Why else would I be frightened of the truth?" She's never dropped them all, not since she gained the ability, she's sure she's a wreck beneath, it's a strain, it affects everything but she's frightened.

"I like being alone." she tells herself, trying to force the idea...all her chances were blown, and it was her own fault, she could get used to this, she had before, if a little cracking was what she needed...she missed her family, her children, her sister...she even missed her sire.

"I'll just break myself..." she states, allowing something within herself to snap, to twist, to change to accomadate this.